


put the blame on the chemistry

by transit (dollyeo)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack, Developing Relationship, Multi, oblivious to love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-27 12:53:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyeo/pseuds/transit
Summary: “I can’t believe you two are pimping Soonyoung-hyung out for free food and coffee,” Chan splutters.“They servereallygood cupcakes too, but the cookies are the best,” says Seokmin. He picks up one of the cranberry and white chocolate cookies from the paper bag, then hands it to Chan. “Here, try one.”“Pimping,” Chan despairs. “Forfree—"Seungkwan shoves the biscuit into his mouth, his palm an effective shield against Chan’s attempts at biting and any lingering crumbs or drool in the interim. Seokmin, for his part, smushes Chan’s cheeks together and watches him chew with rapt attention.“… and how many of this stuff do you guys get again when you’re with Soonyoung-hyung?” Chan hedges, after a beat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sysupportgroup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sysupportgroup/gifts).



There’s a café a couple of stations away from Chan’s stop that he’s been meaning to go to for a while now. It’s near enough to the campus to go reasonably on foot in a pair of comfy shoes, but it’s far enough from most dorms that not a lot of students even bother making the trip in favor of other nearer, more spacious coffee shops with free charging ports. A happy medium if there ever was one, Soonyoung, his roommate, likes to claim, but Chan’s trying to refrain from developing an addiction to caffeine if he can help it— he’s seen how Soonyoung and his friends subsist on it during hell week, and he is _not_ taking chances and emulating Jeon Wonwoo or Lee Jihoon’s zombie-eyed ennui in the process.

First year’s fine; Chan gets by on midterms and finals without needing to do more than cram and leech off of other people’s notes in the process, so he doesn’t really think that he’ll ever need anything beyond a couple of energy drinks to get him through the night. It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s still passing his classes without sacrificing too much sleep and sanity in the process.

Second year, though— second year is when Chan finally reconsiders his stance on drinking coffee and finally says yes to Soonyoung’s invitation to get a cup before their classes start.

In his defense, he has back-to-back readings and papers due in the incoming week, right when he’s decided to take a full load and finish his credits for community service all in the same semester. If he could go back to past-him that decided to sign up for so many things recklessly during online registration, he’d kick his own ass for flippantly subjecting his future self to self-inflicted torture.

Yeah, past him is an idiot.

Soonyoung looks surprised when he actually gets out of bed and follows after him on his way out, but he’s not one to turn down free company if he can help it. “The brewed coffee kinda sucks,” says Soonyoung, just as they’re crossing the intersection across the café, “but the guys that work there are _really nice_ , and they make the best latte art this side of town. I come there with Seokmin and Seungkwan all the time.”

Chan grunts, not even looking up from his phone. Soonyoung has to grab him by the shoulders and steer him away from an incoming bicycle with a squawk, but the great part about hanging out with Soonyoung— no matter how occasionally annoying he can be about teasing Chan— is that he’s good at taking care of people he likes, sensitive to a fault, sometimes, that even Seungkwan and Seokmin tend to complain about being suffocated. They all keep joking that they’ll be glad to get rid of Soonyoung’s clinginess the minute he gets a girlfriend (or a boyfriend), but Chan’s not going to turn down the fringe benefits that come with being constantly doted on by Soonyoung at any given time, the way he always has since taking one look at Chan as a freshman joining the uni’s dance org and laying claim to him like a duck imprinting in reverse.

“Watch it, idiot,” Soonyoung chides, smacking him upside the head. Okay, so maybe he could do a little without the abuse. Soonyoung has a _mean_ punch. “If you get hit by a car, what am I gonna tell your mother?”

“Tell her uni’s succeeded in sucking out my soul,” says Chan, flatly. “Oh, and that no one’s allowed to open my laptop. Whatever you do, hyung, you have to promise to erase all my porn.”

“Gross,” says Soonyoung. “As if I needed to know that.”

“You were the one who sent me all those links and taught me how to use a VPN,” Chan retorts. “I can’t believe you know how to do that and still can’t use a search engine with additional filters properly to save your life.”

“I’m teaching you all you need to know, young grasshopper,” says Soonyoung, loftily, even as he laces their fingers together to drag him towards the café. “Now come on and stop struggling, you’re gonna get yourself killed if I leave you alone at this rate.”

“I’m not _five_ ,” Chan protests, but Soonyoung just laughs at him and swings their arms back and forth like the obnoxious asshole he is.

Soonyoung pushes open the door to the café, stepping into the warmth and the brightly-lit space, chirping out a greeting to whoever it is that’s manning the counter. He gets a few chipper calls back— clearly he’s a regular here enough to be friendly with the staff, and Soonyoung just digs a few bills out of his pocket and shoves it into Chan’s palm with quick instructions to get him the usual before his bladder _explodes_ (gross), with a hefty side serving of pancakes and all the syrup in the world unless he wants Soonyoung’s stomach acid to eat his innards whole (double gross).

Soonyoung ducks away to the back of the café, waving at the counter, and he gets a couple of laughs in turn. Whatever warm feelings might have been evoked by the familiarity, however, is visibly dampened by the pointed, icy stares Chan’s gotten since Soonyoung abandoned him in the front desk to run to the bathroom, a few pairs of speculative, narrowed eyes scrutinizing him up and down and making him feel impossibly small.

Suddenly, Chan’s not sure he wants to stay inside here a bit longer than he absolutely has to. Maybe he should have insisted on staying home.

He walks up to the counter and haltingly rattles off Soonyoung’s order, and the guy that’s been trying to bore holes into his skull just stares at him, unblinking, like he doesn’t understand a word he’s saying. Chan takes a quick look at his nametag, then stifles a groan— great, just what he needs. A language barrier, if the _Minghao_ on the tag is any indication of it. Suddenly, he’s regretting not dragging someone like Jisoo-hyung or Hansol along with them. Literally _anyone else_.

The other guy behind the counter doesn’t seem to notice Chan’s struggle to get his order across— really, how on earth does Soonyoung even do it. How does _anyone_ who comes to this café do it? — but he’s either really clumsy or he’s just really jittery, shoulders and hands shaking every time he holds onto something. Chan has this sinking feeling like he’s being toyed with, though, despite the genuine look of confusion on Minghao’s face. It’s almost like he’s being trolled.

He manages to get his order across after the most excruciating five minutes of his life, and by the time he settles down in the seat farthest from the counter with his laptop open and his headphones over ears, Soonyoung emerges from the restroom, wiping his (still damp) hands on his pants.

“Use a napkin,” he chides, and Soonyoung makes a face and starts rubbing his palms all over Chan’s shirt like the stubborn asshole he is. Chan’s about to kick him under the table in retribution when one of the staff members — Junhui, his nametag says — approaches their table with a strange smile on his face that looks too forced to be anything but fake.

“Soonyoung-ah, I haven’t seen you in a while,” Junhui says, brightly, like they’re close friends. Then again, knowing how Soonyoung sticks to anyone that he takes to like glue, Chan’s not discounting it as being close to the truth. “Busy semester?”

“The worst,” Soonyoung bemoans, letting go of Chan’s arm. Junhui’s grin widens just a bit, and Chan raises an eyebrow at that. “I’ve been meaning to drop by for a while, but you know how it is.”

Junhui makes a consoling noise at the back of his throat as he sets a cup of coffee and a humongous plate of pancakes in front of Soonyoung. Chan stares at it, unblinking. The coffee has hearts and sprinkles in it. _Hearts_. Then he looks at the mug of lukewarm water Junhui sets in front of him, confused.

“Where’s my coffee?”

“It’s taking a while to brew, and I didn’t want to keep Soonyoung here waiting,” Junhui explains, plastering a less-than-genuine smile on his lips when he turns to Chan. Then, he looks back at Soonyoung with a knowing look, like they’re in on some inside joke Chan’s not privy to. “We’re using Vietnamese coffee today and we wanted to do it the old-fashioned way, you know.”

“Vietnamese coffee is the best,” Soonyoung agrees. “You’re totally gonna get heart palpitations all night, Channie.”

“I don’t need you to watch over me all night,” Chan mutters, and he watches Junhui’s bright expression dampen, just a little. _Huh_.

Chan narrows his eyes, the gears working slowly in his head. The person at the cashier— Minghao— seems to keep sneaking glances at their direction, though for what, Chan’s not too sure about. He’s got a sneaking suspicion what it is, though. He just has to test his theory a bit more.

“Is this your boyfriend, Soonyoung-ah?” Junhui fishes, eyeing him closely. “I haven’t seen this one around. Did you dump Seungkwan and Seokmin already?”

“Him? No way!” Soonyoung scoffs, and just as easily as that, Junhui seems to school his expression back into something cheerier and _smug_ , shoulders visibly relaxing at the denial. “Chan’s, like, my baby brother.”

Chan lets him have his little taste of victory for a scant moment, before he cocks his head to the side and says, with the most bored-sounding tone he can muster, “Yeah, except I see you naked at home every day.” He turns to Junhui, blinking innocently. “Soonyoung-hyung’s so gross, he likes walking around the apartment without anything on, and if he even uses any underwear, he keeps stealing mine. Worst roommate ever, right?”

Junhui looks at him, eyes wide, and it takes him a while before he can get his motor skills to function again, apparently slow to recover at the mental images that must have been flashing in his mind. “Yeah,” Junhui croaks out. “That must be terrible for you.”

“We’re very close,” says Chan, loftily. “Maybe closer than brothers. I’ve walked in on him wanking off in the shower so many times it’s like second nature to me now to tune him out, right, Soonyoung-hyung?”

Junhui squirrels away while Soonyoung squawks and punches Chan’s arm, but Chan’s paying more attention towards the way he and Minghao start speaking in hushed, frantic whispers behind the counter. From the way Minghao’s eyes keep darting back to him, he knows they’re only talking about one thing, and he’s not under any illusions that it’s anything positive.

That’s firmly solidified when it’s Minghao who comes over with Chan’s order, slamming the cup unceremoniously in front of him.

“Here’s your drink,” says Minghao, in perfectly understandable Korean, unlike the one-worded sentences and awkward pauses every time Chan wanted to ask something about the menu. He turns to Soonyoung, ignoring Chan— apparently a recurring thing from now on, and Chan’s slowly coming to terms with being relegated to wallflower status by now— and making the most unassuming, guileless expression Chan’s ever seen on him yet. “How were the pancakes, hyung? Junnie-hyung almost served them cold, but I made sure to warm them up for you and put in extra syrup, just the way you like it.”

“Aww, Minghao—”

“Then again, you have the sweet tooth of a five-year-old,” says Minghao, flippantly. “The road to diabetes is a long and winding one, hyung.”

“Thanks, I can really feel the love,” Soonyoung huffs. “Now I remember why I never bring Seokmin and Seungkwan along anymore. One of you is enough.”

“Please never bring them ever again,” says Minghao. “They’re bad for our business.”

“Maybe if you guys stopped slipping them free sweets, then you wouldn’t be having this problem,” Soonyoung teases. “Admit it, Hao, you’ve got a soft spot for them even if you keep saying they’re annoying.”

“It’s not _them_ I’ve got a soft spot for,” Minghao grumbles, then clicks his tongue as he picks up a napkin to wipe at the crumbs on Soonyoung’s chin. “You’re a lost cause, hyung.”

 _Ah_ , Chan thinks, realization dawning on him like some godforsaken train wreck as he watches Soonyoung scrunch his face up with his eyes closed and Minghao’s judgmental look turn softer, bleeding fondness and exasperation at turns. _No wonder Seokmin-hyung and Seungkwan-hyung come here all the time_.

It’s this same thought that lingers in his brain, long after they pack up and go home with extra cookies squirreled away in a paper bag, the epiphany niggling in the back of his head like the annoying heart palpitations in Chan’s chest. He can’t get it out of his head _at all_.

 

 

“You two are _terrible_ human beings,” is the first thing out of Chan’s mouth when he meets Seungkwan and Seokmin for lunch the next day.

“How can we be terrible if we haven’t even done anything,” Seungkwan protests, voice carrying in the cafeteria. “I never would have pegged you to make unfounded accusations at poor, innocent people, Lee Chan!”

Chan throws the pouch full of cookies from the café on the table. Seokmin and Seungkwan lunge for them at the same time, earlier indignation forgotten.

“Okay,” says Seungkwan, mouth full of cookies. “You’ve caught me. But these cookies are _so good_.”

“I can’t believe you two are pimping Soonyoung-hyung out for free food and coffee,” Chan splutters.

“They serve _really_ good cupcakes too, but the cookies are the best,” says Seokmin. He picks up one of the cranberry and white chocolate cookies from the paper bag, then hands it to Chan. “Here, try one.”

“ _Pimping_ ,” Chan despairs. “For _free_ —"

Seungkwan shoves the biscuit into his mouth, his palm an effective shield against Chan’s attempts at biting and any lingering crumbs or drool in the interim. Seokmin, for his part, smushes Chan’s cheeks together and watches him chew with rapt attention.

“… and how many of this stuff do you guys get again when you’re with Soonyoung-hyung?” Chan hedges, after a beat.

“ _So many_ ,” says Seungkwan. “I’ve gained so much weight, I’ve had to pretend I enjoyed exercising just to tag along with Seungcheol-hyung and Soonyoung-hyung whenever they went to the gym.” He pokes at his stomach, sighing. “My stomach’s a lost cause at this point.”

“These cookies are worth all the calories, though,” says Seokmin.

“Discovering that café was a blessing and a curse,” says Seungkwan.

“How long has this been going on?” Chan asks. “More importantly, why am I always the last to know about these things?”

“Not very long,” says Seokmin, delicately. He refuses to look Chan in the eye, though, a shitty liar if there ever was one. “Maybe around… three...”

“Weeks? Months?”

“Semesters,” Seokmin confesses.

“ _And you let me go through last year just gnawing on convenience store snacks?_ ”

“I never got free stuff when it was just Minghao working part-time there, okay?” says Seokmin, holding his hands up to pacify him. “But then Jun-hyung came on board and started flirting with Soonyoung-hyung, and _that_ got Minghao’s competitive streak running.” Seokmin makes a face, like he’s remembering something he wishes he’d purged permanently from his mind. “ _And then_ I had to be his guinea pig while he practiced how to confess his love through latte art that never even got through Soonyoung-hyung’s thick skull, and let me tell you— all that whipped cream and foam is the reason I’m slowly getting over my lactose intolerance. I’m the victim here!”

“Says the one who gets all the upsizes,” says Seungkwan, reaching over to pinch Seokmin’s side.

“Yeah, well, I’m nicer than you are and don’t make it a point to make any of them squirm whenever I make a vague comment about their obvious crush on Soonyoung-hyung—”

“It’s not my fault the sexual tension is so thick,” Seungkwan whines. “It’s supposed to be a family-friendly establishment, not a den of iniquity!”

“They’re very tame people, though,” says Chan.

“You haven’t seen Junhui-hyung change into tank tops under his apron and accidentally drop things in front of Soonyoung-hyung, okay,” says Seungkwan, flatly. “Trust me when I say they’re getting desperate.”

“Why don’t they just ask him out, then?”

“And lose our steady supply of snacks?” Seungkwan splutters. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m a decent person,” says Chan. “I would _never_ use Soonyoung-hyung for my own benefit.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m only doing this to watch Minghao squirm,” says Seungkwan. “Minghao can be _really_ annoying when he’s not playing it up in front of Soonyoung-hyung, and even around him, he’s still pretty abrasive.”

“I keep telling him he hangs around Kim Mingyu too much, but he doesn’t listen,” says Seokmin.

“Well, whatever it is, I hope you two feel ashamed of yourselves for being the only friends Soonyoung-hyung has that take advantage of his obliviousness for your personal gain.”

Seokmin and Seungkwan look at each other, then burst out laughing.

“What?” Chan asks, dread pooling in his gut.

“Where’d you think Wonwoo-hyung and Jihoon-hyung get all their coffee from?” Seungkwan asks, still snickering under his breath.

“Wow,” Chan marvels. “You’re all assholes.”

“You sounded just like Minghao did when I first got him to make _me_ latte art, but he still did it anyway and _I’m_ still getting my weekly dose of caffeine, so who’s really winning?”

Chan eats up the rest of the cookies in the paper bag, just to spite them.

And then he heads over to the café to actually _buy_ them when Soonyoung’s suitors aren’t in sight, _damn it_. Those cookies really _are_ too good.

 

 

**THREAD: I’m [20-something/m], having a tough moral crisis involving a friend [20+/m].**

So I’m roommates with a friend who has two people working in the same café with massive hard-ons for him, and I just found out most of our other friends have been secretly getting freebies from them in exchange for making sure they take him along for them to ogle him for hours on end. Is it bad that I’m seriously contemplating doing the same thing? I’m a broke uni student and they have so many pastries I want to try. IT’S SO GOOD.

> > sounds skeevy. are you really his friend if you’re practically prostituting him for baked goods?

> > nothing in life is free, OP. I say go for it!

> > how does your friend feel about sandwiches ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

> > tell your friend to lay back and think of all the coffee you can get. bonus points if they’re both super hot.

> > lmao what is this romcom even


	2. Chapter 2

“Dude, you look like shit,” is the first thing out of Hansol’s mouth the next day when they meet up at the PC bang near the station. “Did you spend all night stalking Jisoo-hyung’s Instagram again?”

“I didn’t— it’s not stalking if we’re following each other!” Chan splutters. He grabs Hansol’s arm, digging his nails deeper into the flesh until Hansol visibly winces and finally presses the pause button when it looks like Chan isn’t going to let go. (He won’t). “And I wasn’t looking at his feed!”

“Right, because hypothetically speaking, I wouldn’t be getting a screenshot of his notifs with you liking posts from _years_ ago if you weren’t,” says Hansol, drily. He holds his phone up to show Chan, who immediately feels the need to get swallowed up by the ground, preferably right at this moment. “He thinks it’s cute, by the way. You should really get around to asking him out.”

“I am _not_ asking out my TA!”

“ _Ex-TA_ ,” Hansol insists. “It doesn’t count if you’ve passed the class already.” He shakes his head, a crooked smile forming on his lips. “Seungkwan was pretty sure you were intentionally flunking just to get more make-up classes and tutoring on the side.”

“Econ is hard, shut up,” Chan mutters. “And for your information, I was only looking at his account for, like, five minutes.” He opens his browser, going through his tabs before settling on one of his bookmarked threads and showing it to Hansol. “I was tracking all the comments here last night.”

Hansol takes a few seconds to skim the thread, his eyebrows furrowed; by the time he hits the end of the page, he’s looking at Chan with the face he makes every time he’s trying to mask volumes of judgment with reproach and disappointment instead— the only person it’s ever worked on is Seungkwan, really, but Chan’s vulnerable from running on far too little sleep and coffee fumes, so it still stings.

“Lee Chan,” says Hansol, taking a deep breath, “are you seriously considering taking pimping your roommate out for _cookies_?”

“They’re very good cookies,” says Chan, voice weakening as he sinks into the computer chair. “And Seungkwan-hyung and Seokmin-hyung did it too!”

Hansol continues to look unimpressed. “That doesn’t make it any better. How would you feel if someone did it to _you_?”

“Jeonghan-hyung already did, remember?” says Chan, rolling his eyes. During the first few weeks of freshman year and his fresh infatuation with the substitute econ TA, Hong Jisoo, he’d let himself get suckered into the thankless job of helping grade extra credit assignments he barely understood by Yoon Jeonghan, the TA from the next class over. _I stay in the same lounge Jisoo does_ , he’d said. _You’ll get to see him if you come over to help me_ , he’d insisted.

Little did Chan know that aside from that single recit class, Jisoo’s schedule never really overlapped with his own that semester. Fuck Jeonghan so hard.

“Besides, I’m filling the contents of our fridge without making a dent on Soonyoung-hyung’s wallet,” Chan argues. “They can woo that bottomless pit of his _and_ make _me_ happy at the same time. It’s for a charitable cause.”

“I don’t know… That sounds exactly like something Jeonghan-hyung would say…” Hansol says, dryly.

Chan shudders. “If I ever get as bad as him, I give you blanket permission to shoot me in the face every time we play Overwatch,” He promises. “ _Please_.”

“I still think this is a bad idea and it’s going to spectacularly blow up in your face,” says Hansol, ever the optimist, “but whatever. Just make sure you don’t get caught. Hospital fees are expensive these days if you end up getting your ass kicked.”

“Soonyoung-hyung’s all talk about learning taekwondo when he was younger,” Chan scoffs. “He’s not gonna do anything to me.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Hansol mutters, putting his headphones back on and turning back to the game before Chan can ask him what he means by it.

Whatever. Hansol’s always so cryptic about these things that Chan’s learned to just take his words at face value and go with the flow. He’ll ask Seungkwan about it later on, maybe. First, he’s got some scheming to do, and all under his roommate’s nose.

He’s got this. What could possibly go wrong?

 

 

Fueled by the support of anonymous commenters on the internet validating his (questionable) pragmatism and not the least bit deterred by Hansol’s lack of encouragement, Chan drops by the café the next day with a snapback hanging low over his head and a mask covering the lower half of his face. He’s borrowed (read: stolen) Soonyoung’s clothes in the process, too, just to make the charade a bit more convincing, and when he walks in with Soonyoung’s (painstakingly copied) gait, watching the way Minghao perks up from behind the counter almost makes his insides clench with guilt.

Almost. The scowl Minghao flashes him when he smugly takes off his face mask and his cap is enough to kill off the guilt demons gnawing on his insides.

“Junhui not in yet?” Chan asks, with as much fake cheer as he can muster.

“That’s Junhui- _hyung_ to you,” says Minghao, scornfully. “And what do you care?”

“You’re a lot better at Korean now than the first time we met,” Chan observes, then tacks on _jerkface_ in his head. From what he’s gleaned from Seokmin, Minghao _knows_ martial arts, so Chan’s going to have to tread carefully unless he wants a piece of flatbread choking his windpipe “accidentally”. Still, it’s vaguely satisfying to watch Minghao’s scowl deepen on his face. He almost looks like a cat that’s being forced into a cone of shame, or something equally unpleasant. “Who would have thought you could string together insults better than you could flirt?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice with people like you,” says Minghao, barely batting an eyelash as he inspects his fingernails. “What are _you_ doing here anyway? Isn’t there some other cave you can crawl into?”

“Are you always this rude to customers?” Chan wonders. “Or do you just make exceptions for special cases?”

“I’m perfectly polite unless the situation warrants otherwise,” says Minghao, undaunted. “I can see right through you, Chan.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Chan. “And how do you know my name?”

“Junhui told me,” says Minghao. “And if I were you, I’d cut the crap— Seokmin already caved and texted me yesterday.”

“Oh,” says Chan. No wonder. Seokmin’s the _worst_ at keeping nefarious plots under the wraps even when they involve him. “That makes this a lot easier, then.”

“If you’re here to give me the roommate talk, relax,” says Minghao, rolling his eyes. “I’m not gonna spoil his virtue or anything.” He bites the inside of his cheek, eyes glazing over in thought. “At least, not _yet_.”

_Gross_. Chan never wants to _know_ , much less hear or see it playing out on his couch. He’s just glad that he’d imposed a no-pants-off rule in the common room after the last time he’d walked in on Soonyoung watching porn. _In broad daylight_. _Because he was bored_.

“I’m not here to tell you to back off,” says Chan. “If anything, I’m here to strike you a deal.”

“If you’re offering me illicit pictures, then you can keep them,” Minghao scoffs. “Seungkwan’s already supplying Junhui with his post-gym pictures, and I am _not_ stooping that low.”

“I’m giving you something better,” says Chan. He digs around his bag, then throws a barely-opened planner on the counter. “I’m here to give you _this_.”

“Oh great, just what I needed,” says Minghao, cheerlessly. “Secondhand school supplies.”

Minghao looks at the item like it’s something that greatly offends his sensibilities, and the arched eyebrow is nothing short of disparaging. Still, Chan’s not too intimidated, even if his facial muscles are itching at this point. He squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest a little, trying to summon every ounce of self-confidence he can muster.

It’s not too hard, not after living with Soonyoung, who lives to embarrass Chan at any and all opportunities, especially in front of people Chan really wants to impress the most. The thought is enough to fuel Chan’s drive even more.

“It’s too bad you’re not interested,” says Chan, flipping the planner open. Minghao tracks his motions with his eyes, still not fully trusting him. “I mean, there’s not a lot of stuff written down here. I can understand the skepticism.” He stops until he gets to the first few pages, smack dab into the timetables, and watches Minghao’s face comically freeze into one of dawning understanding. “It’d be a shame for someone else to get a hand on Soonyoung-hyung’s class schedule for the rest of the semester, right?”

Minghao grits his teeth, even as he plasters a fake smile on his face. “So you’re actively encouraging stalking instead of voyeurism?”

“I like to think of it as actively creating opportunities for social interaction,” says Chan. “If it turns romantic when you’re walking him home from class one of these days, then that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

Minghao’s eyes flicker down to the opened page, indecision warring on his features. “What do you want for it?”

“Two of those half-dozen boxes of cookies,” says Chan. “One batch for breakfast, and another for the afternoon, dropped off at my doorstep within next week.”

“I’m not a fucking delivery guy.”

“You’re not, but I’m giving you an excuse to swing by our shared apartment without looking too suspicious,” says Chan. “You remember my apartment, right? The one I share with Soonyoung-hyung? Everyday? Where I get to see him naked—”

Minghao’s smile twitches, threatening to tug downward. “Two cookies. You don’t need all that sugar.”

“Well,” says Chan, “guess Junhui-hyung’s gonna be more interested in knowing Soonyoung-hyung’s class schedule until the end of the term.”

“I know exactly what you’re doing, you opportunistic bastard,” says Minghao, through gritted teeth. “Seungkwan’s already tried this on me before.”

“So that’s a no on the cookies, then,” says Chan. He reaches out to grab the notebook again, but Minghao just lets out an aggravated sigh and takes the planner before Chan can get a hold of it.

“Text me your address,” says Minghao, grudgingly. “I’ll give you your damn cookies starting next week.”

He opens the notebook to check its contents, then gives Chan a confused look. “This only has his classes on Monday.”

“Oops, I forgot to tell you—I charge per page,” says Chan. “That’ll be _ten_ more boxes then.”

“ _Ten_?”

“He has classes on Saturday too.”

“Fuck you,” says Minghao. “I hope you choke on those cookies and die.”

“Hey, I’m giving you a free pass into our apartment. Take it or leave it.”

“Here’s my number. Give me your damn phone.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” says Chan. He smirks and hands Minghao his phone for him to key in his number, and the guilt demons are quickly squashed by the happier choirs of angels singing in his stomach at the prospect of snacks every day. He’s a growing boy with needs. Fuck being moral. Maslow’s got a point.

“When I start dating your roommate, I’m gonna convince him to kick you out,” Minghao threatens.

“ _If_ it happens,” says Chan. He’s not counting on miracles happening anytime soon.

 

 

Conning Junhui into providing him other forms of sustenance, though—that one’s a more doable option.

“It’s bad enough I’m already getting coffee for Jihoonie and Wonwoo,” Junhui whines, shoving the box of cupcakes into Chan’s expectant arms. He looks around the hallway curiously, like he’s looking around for something. Or _someone_. “Is Soonyoung around?”

“Still asleep,” says Chan. “You might wanna drop by a little later than seven in the morning.”

“I have class at seven-thirty,” Junhui sulks. “And here I thought I’d be able to see his sleepy face.”

“Tough,” says Chan, sweetly, right as he herds Junhui out of the door. “I’ll see you later, hyung!”

He takes a cupcake out and feasts on it for breakfast with a glass of milk, and by the time he’s wiped all traces of evidence off his mouth and stored the box in the fridge, Soonyoung’s half-awake and wandering into their tiny kitchen with a yawn. He’s scratching his stomach lazily, looking more like a lazy cat than the sparkly shoujo manga character Junhui’s probably imagined him to be in his head.

“There are baked goods in the fridge,” Soonyoung observes, right before he sticks his head out of the refrigerator to stare incredulously at Chan. “Why are there cupcakes and cookies in here? Did your mom visit today?”

“They’re from secret admirers,” says Chan, pointedly not looking up from his readings. Soonyoung lets out a snort of laughter, completely disbelieving him.

“Yeah right,” says Soonyoung. “As if you even have those.”

“It’s not me I’m talking about,” says Chan.

“Oh,” says Soonyoung. He forages around for a cookie, then bites down into it. “Tastes just like the ones from that café I liked. Huh.” He takes another bite, pursing his lips in thought. “Who was it? Was it one of Wonwoo’s closet admirers?”

“Can’t we just have generous benefactors willing to supply starving college kids on a budget?” Chan asks.

“Last time I checked, no one gave handouts to uni kids,” says Soonyoung. “Lee Chan, did you get a sugar mommy in secret?”

“Ugh,” says Chan, making a face. “No!”

“A sugar daddy, then?” Soonyoung crows, and Chan throws a bunch of pens at his general direction to get him to stop. “Have you been up to some kinky shit lately? Is that what you’ve been doing on that forum you spend so much time on?”

“I hate you and I hope you get food poisoning from that batch,” Chan yells.

Soonyoung cackles and just stuffs a cupcake icing-first into his mouth. It helps a little to get rid of any feelings of guilt whatsoever, Chan thinks. Absolutely none left whatsoever.

 

 

“So,” says Jeonghan, apropos of nothing when Chan passes by him on his way to (discreetly) check in on the class Jisoo’s a TA in the next day. “I heard you’ve been blackmailing people into bringing you food in exchange for private information.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Chan, keeping his tone level and even. “I gotta go—I’ve got class in the next building, hyung. See you!”

The thing about Jeonghan is that he’s like a crocodile waiting for prey to fall into its mouth before swallowing it down whole and never letting go, sensing weakness and sheer stupidity like a homing device. Unfortunately for Chan, it seems like Jeonghan’s not at all convinced by his charade, because the grip on his bicep is tight, perfectly clean and cut nails digging into flesh enough to make Chan feel like the circulation in his limbs is getting cut off.

“Does Soonyoung-ah know you’ve been led into the dark side like this, Lee Chan?” Jeonghan says, fake disappointment bleeding in his tone. On anyone else but Jeonghan, Chan would have felt guilt; on Jisoo, it would have made Chan squirm and confess on impulse, no matter how much Jeonghan keeps claiming he and Jisoo are more alike than anyone else.

On Jeonghan, though, Chan just feels the alarm bells ringing and blaring in his head, screaming at him to get out and save himself before he gets roped into something diabolical. His self-preservation skills have evolved at an accelerated speed since meeting Jeonghan.

“You’re crazy and I really need to go to class,” Chan informs him, trying to wrench his arm away.

“After all the time we’d spent together, I can’t believe you’re keeping secrets from me,” Jeonghan bemoans. “What happened to my baby?”

“You don’t have a baby,” says Chan. “Last time I checked, you haven’t managed to knock anyone up.”

“I know you only say hurtful things because you’re going through a rebellious phase, but that’s fine,” says Jeonghan, loftily. “I’ll get back at you when you least expect it.”

“You mean, at every opportunity you can get to embarrass me in front of Jisoo-hyung?”

“Two of my favorite people, trapped in a room with me— sounds like a fun night, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not a fan of suffering, thanks. You can find someone else to annoy,” says Chan, finally tugging his arm away. “Don’t you have some other freshman to torture, hyung?”

“But the freshmen this year are so boring,” Jeonghan complains. “No delinquents, no gossips, no impressionable teenagers popping boners for their seniors in the middle of class—"

“That was _one time_ and it was an _accident_ —"

“— and of course you’ll always have a special place in my heart, even if it feels like you’ve already forgotten me in _yours_ ,” Jeonghan finishes, solemnly. “But just wait. I’ll find out everything sooner or later, Chan.”

“At least do something more productive like actually grading your own papers for once,” says Chan, exasperated.

Jeonghan props his chin on his palm, eyes crinkling together. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Chan shakes his head, making his escape before Jeonghan can sink his claws into him deeper. Hansol claims he’s acting like Jeonghan, but Chan knows better; he’s a far tamer option to deal with than Jeonghan, that’s for sure.

Now, if only Soonyoung’s stalkers realize this, too.

 

 

**THREAD: [UPDATE] I [20+/m] did something questionable and now the anxiety demons are coming. Send help.**

What’s the best way to stop feeling guilty and/or paranoid about something? (Well, the paranoia is, like, 90% of the equation, but still.) I’ve tried eating my feelings already, but considering the food is part of the guilt, I’m not sure what else to do other than kill some time shooting zombies in the face.

**EDIT:** NO, FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT GOING TO PRISON FOR THIS. I think.

> > watch gintama and laugh, then cry, and then laugh again.

> > *watch porn and fap, then cry, and then fap again. there, I fixed it for you.

> > what’s wrong, OP? is it something that could throw you in prison?

> > dude probably stabbed someone. or ran them over. either way, he’s going to jail.

> > [SCREENCAP.GIF: how to track IP addresses and report a criminal online]

> > get a life, loser. vagueposting is the worst.

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing this a bit too much UvU thank you, peasus, for funding my caffeine addiction and for letting me play around with my favorite ot3 ♥ moar crack to come!!!


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